


Tapping the Vein

by VeeJeanDee



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 14:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16451510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeJeanDee/pseuds/VeeJeanDee
Summary: After Kylo Ren's defeat by Rey and rescue from the destruction of Starkiller Base, his defiance over receiving treatment to his vast amount of injuries is ignored, leaving him in the hands of AI med-tech, surgical procedures and a hated adversary's "mercy".





	Tapping the Vein

“Microsutures: ninety-five. Percent. Finished. Estimated time to finish: nine. Minutes, forty-four. Seconds. Please, continue to lie. Still.”

 

The machinery created to close almost any shallow wound was a miracle to most. It was only when the needle-thin structures were still that one could get a good look at them; when switched on, procedure instructions inputted into the medical machine’s command center and a quick overview of the damages were assessed through its AI surgeon-brain, the miniscule body of thin metal joints and applicator heads would become invisible in how fast everything moved over the skin. Patient reports of the new technology were positive, most saying they hadn’t felt a thing.

 

Yet for Kylo, every last whirring, whisper-like movement and application of skin-repairing sutures working to heal his torn, charred flesh may as well have been thick, rust-covered needles stabbing straight through his face and neck. The procedure felt no different from the more complex medical treatment he was receiving below, the bowcaster-blast having torn through not just the vulnerable flesh on his left side, but blood vessels and several layers of muscle tissue. A network comprised of a medical-droid run system of surgical tools had been put to task, making small, accurate thrusts to cut into the damage and heal everything from the inside out. This procedure was intrusive enough to not just force his mind and body to go numb through the intravenous drip of both Nyex and Symoxin, two painkillers that when combined all but paralyzed the patient, but as an ‘extra added measure’, restraints had been put to use. His attempting to enter a deep meditation was due in part to escape through his mind’s eye, away from here, to _not feel_ the vulnerable positioning of his body. No matter his resistance to _any_ form of restraint being used, he could understand his left arm being held off to the side, all to give the medical machinery space to work…

 

Not _both_ arms, however. Yet still, the orders given to the medical-staff who’d received him for the emergency treatments had been clear. The soldiers who had rescued Kylo from the imploding, dying planet had barely gotten him past the bridge of the ship and inside when a sudden twist of Kylo’s body had made him delirious and mad with pain; their reporting to the General of his inhuman howling and his delivering hard, powerful blows with his fist to the injury had sealed Kylo’s fate. The gurney’s structure with both detachable and articulated parts, created to support the patient in whatever position a medical procedure required, were manipulated and reset as instructed. The sections serving as armrests had been lowered and swung out a few inches from the frame, and his wrists secured upon them. He’d been made into the perfect vision of a beaten man with nothing left inside of him to fight, openly presenting the enemy his heart, if he so chose to claim full victory. Kylo was surprised that the one who’d put him here, like this, hadn’t arrived to see for himself what Kylo _looked like_ in the shape and form of a man begging for mercy…

 

“Preparing, surgical assessment.” The sloping, silver dome serving as a head for the medical-droid went still, the glowing slat where eyes would be flickered lightly as it processed the data being collected and processed by the AI-tech. All activity at the blast wound stilled in wait for the next orders; with everything stopping, Kylo swallowed and prepared his next venture into meditation. He needed, at the very least, to aid the process into moving faster. With every voice-command activated, the medical droid’s AI speaking out in its cold, artificial tone, Kylo’s focus would falter—stop—then sink toward his goal even deeper. The times that concentration truly faltered would come when—

 

“Second, reapplication of. Nullicaine, to, facial and, neck. Area. Please, continue to lie. Still. Anesthetic-spray release at. Third tone.”

 

The pounding of Kylo’s heart vibrating deep in his inner ears made the trio of tones one singular blur. He winced at the icy spray being applied at the very start of his most humiliating injury, only a few breaths away from his eye and down, all the way to the start of his chest in one wide, uninterrupted gash. No matter the accuracy of the machinery, miniscule droplets of the topical painkiller reached his eyelashes. It wasn’t enough to numb anything, but the _feel_ of it touching him at all was enough for him to clench his eyes shut tight—bring him many steps back from the point he’d reached, where if he’d _simply been left alone_ , he would have started, executed and completed his own Force-heal by now.

 

The anesthetic traveled from his cheek to jaw, the AI keeping the instrument perfectly in tune with the amount of spray to deliver, the slope and drop from his face to his neck until finally, it stopped and swiveled away. With his focus broken, Kylo shifted his eyes to the medical droid, which carried the usual humanoid characteristics; though it had no legs, its trunk was attached to the mainframe of the entire medical-station Kylo had been forced into. The eye-slat then flashed some more, still assessing the next step to take.

 

He’d known better than to try to influence the droid’s mechanisms through force-commands; not only was it programmed to resist them, but it _recognized_ the attempts enough to record them in the final medical reports. The medical staff would see time-stamped, coded moments and make whatever recommendation for his after-care, which would more than likely include a lecture about his needing to follow their treatment plans. It was all so cold and unfeeling, a complete lack of understanding of Kylo’s capabilities when it came to what was best for him. He swallowed, stared deeply into the ‘face’ of the droid and formed a force-command…

 

 _Stop. Everything._ The words were said through his mind and sent out through his eyes with enough Force-energy to stun an entire army. When the droid’s head jerked a little and the flashing stopped, he had some hope. He hadn’t managed to get that reaction in his three former attempts.

 

“Major organ damage: zero. Percent. Suturing of muscle will begin, once. Second round, of, twenty, milligrams of. Anesthesia is introduced intravenously. Please, continue to lie. Still.”

 

“No…” Kylo murmured aloud, hopelessness and despair setting its roots down deeper than before. The tension in his chest split into a sob and sank as the box-like machine bolted into the wall hissed lightly, the light in the middle going green. Kylo stared at the clear tube which ran from the side of the medicine-dispensary and to his arm, all to watch as anesthetic-infused liquid began traveling through the channel. The moment he felt the cold-burn enter his veins and move to spread through his body, he clenched every muscle in defiance and anger, _resist, resist, resist,_ only to fall back into the state he’d been put into the first time the drugs had been introduced.

 

Kylo now wished that he’d given himself exposure to these chemicals before now, all to experience them with a clear, uninterrupted focus. If he had, perhaps he could have found a way to fight the effects—get his brain to ignore synthetic signals telling it to go numb and feel no pain, when for Kylo, pain was what created action, power and the drive to move on. Instead, he was now left to feel his core’s energy being drained away to nothing, once again. He could only cringe and close his eyes tight as he was brought to the worst pain of all… a pain no amount of drugs, medical staff or even the Force could erase and make him whole again.

 

_“P-Papa, so loud…”_

_So weak. So tired. When he touched you, did you feel that soothing rush of warmth, that comfort? How when in his arms, you’d somehow close your eyes and be at peace with the world? Connected to it, a part of something greater than who you were born to be?_

_When the time comes, are you truly, at heart, able to do the same to her? What is there left to trade worthy of severing yourself from the bonds that hold you to the ground… or are the roots you’ve already ripped and torn from your history already enough to erase you from her womb’s memory? An unrecognizable, ugly parasite that couldn’t have been nurtured to life within someone so pure. She knows… you know she does. You felt her feeling it._

_You can never go back. You are no longer her son, but the afterbirth that had been expelled and tossed aside to rot._

 

Kylo barely heard the door to his room open past his own voice’s echo in his head, bouncing off of the walls of his drug-induced exile to this horrible, cold place deep inside of himself. It was only when he heard the familiar light _clack_ of footsteps cross the room slowly that he opened his eyes; he didn’t have to turn his head to see who’d now joined him.

 

“This… is truly a vision,” Armitage muttered in a low, somber voice. Kylo said nothing, fighting himself out from the pit of pain to regain full awareness, as much as possible. For him to be here, alone, without medical personnel supervision could have only happened through flexing his positional-power. There wasn’t any reason for a general to be here with Kylo, strapped to a gurney with the machines still performing surgery on him, otherwise.  

 

The light drumming sound of Armitage’s fingers moving over the casing of the surgical tools compartment made Kylo swallow and go tense. It seemed like forever before Armitage sighed and spoke, “I’ve made my reports to the Supreme Leader. We’re on our way to his ship now, to regroup. He is… very keen to speak to you. However satisfied he was with my explanations… over _just how_ we managed to lose everything The Order worked so hard to create? He is more than eager to not just hear your side, but—to see the proof.”

 

Kylo flared his nostrils and turned his head—not to face the weasel-like face sneering down at him, but to stare at the ceiling. The sterile metal plating’s dull sheen was interrupted by the small flashes of light coming from the mass of machinery surrounding him, like stars—stars blazing out wide, expanding into death throes before going out forever, leaving clouds of disorganized energy suspended in time and space…

 

“So you are here with me. Good,” Armitage said, Kylo able to see a sardonic smirk quirk one corner of his lips up tight. The man’s eyes roamed over Kylo’s face, his expression one of relish and satisfaction. “It’s as if nothing’s really changed about you, you know. These marks were meant to be here—a visible reminder every time you tout yourself as a leader. The self-assumed _next-in-line_ for the Supreme Leader position, when oh… once he sees you? There will be no doubt as to who—”

 

“Muscle, wall. Sutured, one-hundred. Percent. Blood vessel, repair procedure begun, estimated time: three minutes, twenty-two seconds.”

 

Armitage flicked his eyes to the droid with an annoyed look, as if angry that a mere droid had the _gall_ to interrupt him. It was almost enough to make Kylo smile; though his face remained expressionless, a small spark of something went off inside of him. It was familiar, coming from his long-dead past he rarely revisited anymore. No matter his distaste toward this collections of feelings and memories, some clarity was gained as he remembered that first day… the temple, circle of force-sensitives gathered together with a shared eagerness to learn from a legend, “ _breathe, just… breathe…”_

“Something to think on while you’re on this slab—and consider this, well… ‘words of encouragement’, my very own ‘get well’ gift. But were it not Snoke’s giving me the order himself to collect you—“

 

_“With every small gust of wind, the rustling of leaves, the veins of wood channeling air and water in the trees… breathe with every stem, every root digging down deep into the Earth. Feel your heart’s beating pulsing in time with all energies around you. Breathe.”_

“—swallowed up by the destruction you’ve put upon us all. It would have been fitting, your going ‘down with your ship’, as you’d so deserved—“

 

“Facial, repairs. One-hundred percent, completed. Final reapplication of, nullicaine, with. Sealing agent to, finalize procedure, at. Third tone.”

 

Kylo found himself in a much different mindset, this time. As Armitage yet again scowled, even cursed under his breath, the microsuture-machinery spun to a stop and the spray returned. Kylo closed his eyes and found himself remembering that one strong blast of wind that had washed over them all, a light misting from the clouds above finding their faces.

 

_“You are a creation meant to create. To keep creating. Make new, deconstruct, make new again. Always perfecting, always in time with the universe.”_

 

“I suppose now you’re enjoying the benefit of the medications you’d violently protested against my ordering for you. I’ve never seen you smile before,” Armitage’s voice drifted into Kylo’s mind, a mere humming blur. What he said didn’t matter, not right now. Ben had learned long ago how to drown out the negatives and keep thrusting himself forward, utilizing the strength and power of the Force he’d been born with. When the spray finished and all machinery to his right folded back and away then stilled, Ben exhaled and opened his eyes.

 

“Blood vessel repair, one-hundred. Perecent. Completed. Final stage of surgery, closing of wound, begun. Estimated time: one, minute. Thirty seconds.”

 

Armitage’s face was set in a sour, displeased expression, unmoving as he looked from the gurney to the droid a few times. Ben paid him no mind, at last returning to his core to match the work being finished with his mind’s work. Before he could truly sink back into the meditative state he was so desperate to dwell in, Armitage set his eyes on the medicine-dispensary, narrowed his eyes and stepped around the gurney to it.

 

All synapses in Kylo’s brain crackled and spit like a fire coming to life, watching the man open the hatch on the machine’s front, which held a set of controls. Upon his flicking the main switch from ‘AI’ to ‘Manual’, the medical-droid’s head swiveled to ‘look’ at him. “Surgical procedure, is. Unfinished. Recommendation to, return control of. Medication functions. To AI setting.”

 

“Records can always be altered to reflect certain… anomalies,” Armitage said in a soft, matter-of-fact tone as he began entering data into the machine. The medical-droid’s head swiveled back, jerking a little as if confused.

 

“Th-Th-Third round, of, twenty, milligrams of. Anesthesia is introduced. Introduced. Intravenously. Please, continue to lie. Still. Inputted. Code one-one-six-one. Repeat. Code one-one-six-one.”

 

Kylo first gave Armitage a dark, penetrating stare, getting a warm grin in return as more of the drug-mix rushed into the saline solution feeding Kylo’s vein. “I only wish to see that smile again,” Armitage taunted. Kylo’s hands balled into tight fists and push-pulled against the restraints holding him down. Breathy chuckles escaped Armitage’s nose as he raised his eyebrows and said, “Now, now; continue to lie. Still.”

 

Kylo dropped his eyes to the tube, able to discern the innocuous solution from the drugs introduced within it. Molecular structures, banded together and rushing forth to his arm. With his eyes flaring wide, his breathing slowed as he put all focus there—not the droid, not the machine, but the synthetic matter running freely.

 

_No different than air. Branches. Breathe. Stop. Breathe. Stop._

 

“Override of. Medication order. Moving to, thirty. Milligrams. Remain. Remain. S-Still.”

 

“Gaining a tolerance already. Nothing I don’t expect. You’re the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met, but…” Armitage kept his finger on the ‘dispense’ button, tapping it lightly as he stared Kylo’s way. “…We’ll see how many doses it takes for you to learn how to shut your mouth and stay that way a while. It’s al-l-l up to you.”

 

Kylo flicked his eyes between the focus of controlling the flow of yet _more_ anesthetic and the manual controls. There was no way for him to force-influence the machinery, even with the manual controls having replaced the AI. But Ben’s sights fell on Armitage’s hand, up to his fingers, which were still teasingly-tapping along the control’s interface.

 

_“Become that life-giving force of air, soil, and water combined; allowing the vein in the wood, wood to the stem, stem to the leaf’s veins and out to its end—“_

Armitage’s only warning of what was to come was the sharp twist of energy being injected into and through his extremities. Before he could hop back in surprise and move away, however, that energy was sent straight into the machinery where it concentrated, split then burst to create a small yet powerful explosion, the machine coming apart with a loud _clang_ of metal, wires and liquids scattering and spraying out straight at Armitage, who yelped as he was thrown onto the floor on his backside. He slid a foot or two along the polished surface then stopped, legs and arms splayed out and face gone deathly pale. For a few moments, he could only stare at the blasted-apart compartment, now sending trails of smoke and the occasional spurt of saline into the air.

 

“Medication-dispensary, malfunction. Can no longer, connect, requiring assistance.”

 

Armitage turned his head back to Kylo in a shot, his chest now heaving in shallow, halted breaths. Though he’d escaped needing his _own_ medical procedure to remove metal splinters from his face and sutures made over his skin, it didn’t matter. To see the man scrambling to a stand, shiny boots slipping a few times in saline pools now scattered all over the floor, was all the satisfaction Kylo needed… sort of. He flicked his eyes to the droid, who’d started speaking again.

 

“Wound, suturing. Completed. Final action of, sealant application begun—“ The droid’s head jerked left to right a few times before it set its sights on Armitage, eye-slat flashing in a strong pulse. “A general. Who d-does not, fight, wi-with his own. M-Men. Please, continue to, lie. Still.”

 

With a horror-struck look on his face, Armitage scrambled to the door to give the green button a panicked series of hits. It burst open and he left, Kylo watching his scurrying, panicked pace with contentedness until the door shut again, leaving him in peace. It wouldn’t last long, as he was sure the medical personnel overseeing his procedure would be rushing down to him soon.

 

For now, he closed his eyes and sank down into the gurney to finally, _finally_ , achieve a moment’s reprieve. However much he loathed the sniveling rat he’d managed to oust, Armitage had given him the hard truths as to what Kylo’s future held for him. If he was to regain any favor back from his disappointed master, there could be no more wind, no earth and no trees. No thoughts back to the warmth and safety of the womb. Before he could regain the composure he’d created as the man named Kylo Ren, however…

 

_He’d always stroked your face to help you sleep. It was your only thought in that moment, wasn’t it, Ben…_

 

 


End file.
